"That flower is blue,

and that one is too!

But that one is red,"

the little girl said.

"B̷u̷t̷ ̷i̷t̷'̷s̷ ̷n̷o̷t̷ ̷b̷e̷c̷a̷u̷s̷e̷ ̷o̷f̷ ̷b̷l̷o̷o̷d̷.̷

Really, roses are just misunderstood!"

When Mary was a little girl she would go out to play

but she couldn't breathe. The air is toxic here.

the other kids would laugh at her and lead her far astray.

"One injection and you can escape from reality."

But Mary was sweet and Mary was nice so by the end of the day,

her mouth could no longer form the word "no"

the other children left Mary alone and went their separate ways.

It's just another gravestone. Nothing to cry over.

a pretty yellow flower

a small version of the sun

it basks in the warm summer breeze

until the day is done

chatting with the ladybugs,

and a very curious bee

it seems there is more to this flower

than what the eye can see

they spread across the grass

and steal the water from the reeds

it turns out these pretty flowers

are nothing but wicked weeds

yet we blow their seeds to make wishes

which allow them to grow and grow

since if they are so beautiful

why would we want them to go?

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

These are a few of my favorite things

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels

Door bells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles

Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings

These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

Silver white winters that melt into springs

These are a few of my favorite things

When the dog bites

When the bee stings

When I’m feeling sad

I simply remember my favorite things

And then I don’t feel so bad

Dr. Seuss wrote the Cat in the Hat

He writes children's books all about that.

But back when there was World War Two

Seuss wrote political comics, too!

Some were about nationalism

Some were about Hitler and racism

Most of them were ignored by the Corps

Until way after the war.

If his comics had been seen

Before all of the fighting between

Then maybe we could have changed

The lives of so many estranged.

As you approach olderhood,

let me assure you, you are understood.

You may feel as though you’re lost,

but let me tell you, you’re not.

You may feel hated,

but the opposite is true.

You may feel like a failure,

but everyone falls sometimes, you just have to get back up again.

You may feel too far gone,

but let me confide in you, you’re not.

You may feel unseen,

but let me inform you, your Father sees you.

You may feel hopeless,

but let me confess, there’s hope around the corner, just keep looking.

You may feel tired,

but let me declare, there is recovery in Him.

You may feel a lie,

but let me profess the truth.

You may feel bound,

but let me inform you, there is freedom.

I want to tell you as you approach olderhood,

don’t lose sight of who your Creator designed you to be,

don’t lose sight of the truth.

@adin

The children headed down the path

Their parents told them, “No!”

“Go ahead!” said Billy Taff

“Mother said I ought not go”

Billy and his dog stayed still

He sat upon his bike

The other kids rode down a hill

“Now I can’t see them, Spike!”

“Chicken Billy!” he heard that

Then suddenly a scream!

He saw a flying baseball cap

A flying wooden beam!

Billy and Spike went quickly home

Told mother what they’d done

His father tapping on his phone

Calling 911

The story in the paper sad

The kids who did not listen

They got hurt really bad

The ones who called him “chicken”

art is important

this we know is true.

it's in everything we do

even in the mornin'.

when steam fogs the mirror

after your early shower

do you draw a flower,

or maybe a bear having dinner?

do you walk in the kitchen

humming a tune

or skipping like a loon?

it's all art, if you have the vision.

now, you should see the truth.

any art is worth more than riches

because anything ambitious

has a beginning and end.

but art.

art and time are old friends

they can't let the other go

without feeling sad, y' know?

that's why they always make amends

and just keep goin' on, together.

A smile on your face,

Makes the world a better place.

It’s a beautiful day,

So go out and play.

Send an invite to your friends,

For a game that will entertain.

Hide & seek, ya better not peek!

Everyone split now, tag “you’re it!”

Color the sidewalk with bright chalk,

Or take your dog for a little walk.

Head out to the jungle gym,

Jump in the pool for a swim.

Take a walk to the park,

For a ride down the slide,

Far across the monkey bars,

Sing a song while you swing,

Is always a wonderful thing,

Life’s too short to not do anything.

Like a song, your childhood won’t last long, so embrace it now before it’s gone.

I can feel my emotions simmering

frothy boil will have them

rushing past my lid

can you catch it before

they’re all out on the table?

bypassing the choking feeling in your throat

You don’t want to actually feel something

do you?

broth is the best part of the dish

I remember when you asked for my tongue

as if I had a say

scissors poised for my reluctant muscle

your blades are sharp

one quick snip is all you need

like a hair my voice is detached from its anchor

retiring against your cold cutting board

I plead for you to stop

odd strangled noises escape

instead of my soft tone

garbled shrieks stick to my larynx

with nothing to convey my message

my glazed eyes look on to your crude hands

the same hand that slipped past my walls

dicing up the soggy slab

tossing the cubes in the pot

I knew your intentions

no chains held me there

just those hands that

carefully cleansed the wounds

it had created

I had heard the blade

sing against my flesh

again again

appendage after appendage

until I was just a clatter of bones

even sawing off my ears

to keep your lies from making me sick

it was for my own good

somehow your lies still sink into my mind,

rotting out my pink matter

I wondered how long it would’ve been

until it’s ready

I’ve been hungry for quite sometime

I’m never fed

I waited

I knew my eyes were next to go

into the pot.

or maybe a garnish?

confusion draped along my brow bone

as I was propped into a chair

dining table set for two

the ghost of my stomach groaned at the thought

of reciprocation

honey dipped eyes gazed

towards your end of the table

you dipped your ladle into the pot

and then

I knew

why you left

my orbs in these hallowing sockets

you strangle my eyes with your glare

smug glint dances

as crows feet tiptoed the ridge of the pit

taunting me with an empty set of dishes

I want to send them crashing to the ground

but I have no strength

I want to pummel you into the festering pulp

you deserve to be

but I have no fists to fight

I’m bound to this seat with no purpose.

Except to watch you slowly

consume me.

When you finally finish licking the pot clean

punctuated with a roaring belch

you stride towards my body

admiring your work

frosty looks slide over me

and that beautiful hand caresses my face

thumbing at my rough cheek

I hate the sting of excitement that

echoes in my chest

“good thing I saved room for dessert,”

you mouth as a thumb plunges into my socket.

Pop pop!